This Is Not Goodbye
by Igiveup
Summary: PRE-Hiatus. Watson's getting married. Will Holmes attend the wedding?


_As always, thank you to everyone who has reviewed my other stories. I really appreciate the kind words and feedback. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John H. Watson were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I usually use the third person narration because my first person version is lousy. It's hard enough trying to keep the character's "voice" when they're talking, let alone maintain it for the entire story. _

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Watson stared down at the invitation he held in his hands and sighed. He really didn't have much hope that Holmes would show up; the detective had made his feelings about the upcoming marriage crystal clear. But Holmes was still his dearest friend, and Watson wanted to share his happiness with him. Holmes already felt abandoned as it was, not inviting him might imply that he was being forgotten completely. _Then again_, Watson couldn't help thinking,_ He might interpret it as salt being rubbed into the wound._ He ran his fingers through his hair. How could he convince Holmes that their friendship could survive this? True, they obviously won't be seeing each other as often as before, but there was no need to cut ties completely. That was the last thing in the world Watson wanted. He looked at the door to Holmes' bedroom. The lack of cases this past month had only added to the detective's dark mood, and he had locked himself in his room.

The clock chimed downstairs, and Watson stood up. He and Mary were putting the last minute touches on their new home, and she wanted to go over a few details with him. Watson went over to Holmes' door and knocked. "I'm going out now Holmes." There was no response. After taking one final look at the invitation, Watson quietly slipped it under the door and left the flat.

Holmes sat up in bed and glanced down at the envelope Watson had shoved under the door. He knew what it was, the final nail in the coffin of their partnership, the invitation to Watson's wedding. A part of Holmes nagged that he was being selfish, but he couldn't help it. Watson was his only friend, and now he was leaving. Of course Watson had promised that they could still be friends but Holmes couldn't see how. Watson was going to have responsibilities as a husband, he could no longer accompany Holmes on his cases. There would be the occasional visits, but those would become fewer and further between as Watson became absorbed in his new life-with no room for an eccentric amateur detective.

Holmes flopped back down and stared up at the ceiling. He knew he was giving Watson a terrible time. This was supposed to be the happiest occasion in a man's life, and Holmes was doing his best to sabotage it. Watson's face had at first been filled with delight, but as Holmes became more depressed and withdrawn, the doctor's happiness was rapidly replaced with guilt. _Couldn't you at least **pretend** to be happy for his sake? You're a talented enough actor after all,_ Holmes scolded himself. He felt cold and sick. He didn't know what to do. As much as the notion of a slow separation hurt him, he had to admit that his current method-hiding in his resentment-wasn't much better. If anything, it was probably more painful. He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. Then he got out of bed and picked the invitation up off the floor. He turned the envelope over in his hands as he tried to decide what to do.

* * *

When Watson returned later that evening he heard the most beautiful violin music coming from the sitting room. Upon entering he saw Holmes curled up in his chair in front of the fire. "Hello Watson," the detective said softly as he continued to play. Watson was so surprised to have Holmes out of his room and speaking to him again that the doctor was momentarily rendered speechless. "Hello yourself," he said finally. He listened to the music for awhile, trying to decide what to say next and waiting in case Holmes had more to say. When he did not elaborate further Watson finally asked, "Have any cases come your way?" If Holmes wanted to talk about the invitation, then he would have to bring it up. Watson half feared if he mentioned it himself Holmes would retreat back into his room.

"No, no work I'm afraid. I simply desired a change of scenery." Holmes began to play a familiar melody. It was an original creation of his that Watson had taken a shine to. Watson sat down in his own chair and closed his eyes, trying to let the music envelope him. He knew that Holmes had a hard time when it came to the softer emotions. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing for his behavior? That even though he was unhappy about Watson leaving he would try harder to accept it? Watson was not quite the mind reader that Holmes was, but it seemed to be the most logical conclusion. But whether or not that meant that Holmes would attend the wedding-that was still a mystery.

* * *

It was the day of the wedding and Watson was rushing to get ready. The clock insisted that he still had plenty of time but his nerves felt otherwise. He finally finished getting dressed and ran downstairs to the sitting room. "Holmes," he called out. The room was empty. He knocked on the door to Holmes' bedroom. When there was no response he cracked the door open. This room was empty as well. "Where could he have gone off too?" Watson wondered aloud. Finally he decided that Holmes must have left while he was still upstairs. When Mrs. Hudson entered the room his theory was proven correct. "He left about ten minutes ago. No word about where he was going or when he would be back. I'm sorry, Doctor. I know you wished to say good bye."

"It is all right, Mrs. Hudson," Watson said, although he felt his heart sink. "I will leave him a note." He tried to smile. "Now do not think for a moment that you have seen the last of me. This is not so much a good bye as it is an 'until we meet again.'" He kissed the back of her hand.

"You are always welcome here Doctor Watson," Mrs. Hudson said warmly.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Watson was standing at the altar. He knew that he should not have been surprised by Holmes' decision not to attend, but it still hurt bitterly. With no one in his immediate family left living Holmes was all Watson had. Things had seemed to have improved, Holmes had come out of his room and tried to find other ways to keep himself occupied that did not involve the cocaine. They had gone on their usual long walks, enjoying their remaining time together. But the subject of Watson's marriage had never been brought up again.

Watson was brought back to the present by the organist starting to play The Wedding March. He turned to the back of the church to watch Mary's entrance and nearly cried out in surprise. Seated in the back pew was Sherlock Holmes. Watson could feel the corners of his mouth pull back into a wide grin. Mary gave a quick glance to see what held her future husband's attention and almost laughed. "Thank you," she whispered softly as she passed. Holmes gave a quick smile in return. He looked back at Watson, whose face was almost glowing with delight. Holmes own emotions had become a tangled mess. He was still upset that he was losing Watson, but for the first time he also felt happy for him. The sight of Watson's face also gave Holmes a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, their friendship would survive this after all.


End file.
